Blind Drunk
by Wolfborn
Summary: Sometimes it's just good to be so drunk you black out. Other times, it leads to screwed up things like this. ( Some Spoilers for all seasons! Spell Checked but Alpha and rushed with little subject knowledge. Prepare for a rough story I may never rewrite!)


**Quick Author's Note: Never watched the show, just going off of what I know of Bojack so I apologize if this isn't very to his character. Plus, I've no idea if he's done gay stuff before in the show, so I assumed he's pretty straight and wrote him as such. As I said, I don't know much. And yes, it's rushed, undetailed and pretty crap, but I mean I haven't wrote in ages to just finding the will to type this and NOT spend the next aon rewriting it in a fit of OCD perfectionism is a miracle in itself. Anyway, here's Bojack, a ton of booze, swearing, sexual content and an OC character. Enjoy!**

It was a Sunday, which meant it was the day to get completely and utterly shit faced at whatever place he could cheap booze at. Okay, so maybe every day was a day to get off his fifty something tits on booze, but he was just glad he remembered what day it was. If he had someone in his life to actually care about, maybe to stop him trying to kill himself via a liver so rotten it could kill on contact, he'd try cut back on the slosh and _maybe_ try make himself a better man. But like fuck did he have anyone left to care anymore. Todd hated him cos he screwed things up, his parents were shit bags, his icon was dead and resented his guts, the woman he loved hated him and married some douche bag who ripped off his show... Shit, that douche bag was probably the closest thing he even had to a friend now. The thought alone needed a double bourbon chaser.

After a bout of six gin glasses, of course.

The place he'd stumbled across wasn't too bad. Jukebox was working, booze was cheap, bathrooms were still functioning and didn't have a dead junkie rotting in the stalls, it was classy compared to some of the dive bars he'd woken up in before. Didn't even look too run down, was just the right amount of trashed to say "People get fucked up here and someone may have died in that corner booth". It was a good place to get drunk. Somewhere along the line of his seventh drink, he questioned if it was possible to score some blow here too. He needed something, anything really, to work off the drink. Alcohol mixed with his own self hate was a massive downer, it drained all the fun out of being drunk. He wanted an upper, a quick fix, something that'd really get the party started and help stop his night going from cheap gin and fun to crying and pissing himself in the alley as he passes out against the dumpster. He'd done that enough in his forties, he didn't need to do it again. Of course, he never got the chance to find out if he could get high. To his surprise, and annoyance, he was given company instead. Sitting beside him, a scruffy looking man slumped on his stool and groaned. Denim jeans, black boots, a hoodie over his head that screamed 'leave me the fuck alone', this guy seemed like the type to be crashing at a bar like this. He spoke, giving his order, with a rough voice. Not deep or gruff, but just exhausted. "Vodka, Derek. A big fuckin' glass of it."

Bojack liked the sound of that. But he'd never been one to give a shit about strangers, especially considering they were all assholes anyway. Issue is, when you're fifty percent drunk and pretty detached from your brain, your mouth has an issue of running away with itself. So, without even trying to draw attention to himself, he found himself instantly becoming snarky. "Don't bother asking if that seat's taken, prick." A hard stare from a set of pink eyes was hard to take seriously. He snorted, amused by the girly nature of this stranger's glare, before returning to his drink. And, much as he expected, a nasty reply soon followed. "Like you're waiting for anyone, you fat longfaced cock sucker."

Okay, first off, accurate except for the cocksucker part. Secondly, it was a lot more aggressive than he'd expected. "Says you. Eyes like your's, you've probably had guys up your ass since you were born." There was a clink as the other man's vodka arrived, snatched and throw back without a second thought. Slamming the glass back to the bar, the human shot another reply. "And your daddy probably beat you with a riding crop and fucked you in your crib. So shut the fuck up and let me drink in peace, cunt. Last thing I need today is some horse starting shit he can't finish." As the guy ordered another drink, Bojack thought for a moment. While a part of him was reeling from the comment about his father, bringing back horrible memories of drunken fists smashing against his young face, another part was battling over how to react. Sit there quietly, avoiding more fighting? Shoot back another insult? He wanted to think about it, wanted a good, solid idea before going further.

If only he wasn't so drunk, he might have resisted punching the guy in the face.

The bartender didn't seem surprised. He didn't seem to care. Must've been common place here. But it took him a while to realize what he'd done, watching the human prop himself up from where he'd fallen onto the floor, looming over him with a slight sting on his knuckles. He wanted to say something but just sat back down, noticing his empty glass and going to order another one. Next thing he knew, he was on the floor, his face hurt like fuck, and the man he'd just floored was now standing over him. Only, unlike Bojack, this guy seemed more forgiving. Grabbing him by the arm, he hoisted the horse man back to his seat, slumping him down and returning to his own order of vodka. "There. Now we're even." It was all the man said, his hood resting on his neck to show messy spikes of short black hair, before sipping his drink. He hissed in pain, his lip split from Bojack's punch, sucking softly on the cut to try stop the bleeding. The equine rubbed his own jaw, which he knew would hurt like hell tomorrow, and spun back to his gin. So... This guy wasn't mad? They exchanged insults, then punches, now they were cool? What was this guy on and where could he buy it? "Bojack." The washed-up actor ventured. Maybe he could get a drink out of the guy.

"Conway." He was given, sounding just as fed up of life as he was.

* * *

Drinks had been coming in pretty hot and heavy. Bojack was still ahead of the kid, but Conway was necking a lot stronger stuff so it evened out in a nice kinda way. They'd gotten to talking, as only drunks do, and he couldn't help but question why the guy wasn't more starstruck. "I swear, I've never heard of that show before. I don't even know what the dick 'The Dog House' is either!" He'd been pestering the guy about not recognizing him for the last few minutes, feeling a little offended by it all if he was completely honest. This guy had no idea who he was, he didn't even know about Mr Peanutbutter's show (though knew of him, which hurt more). "How could you not know about the show? Jesus, just how old are you anyway?" The human rolled his eyes, giving an angry sigh as he did. "I'm thirty seven, ya jackass. And I never heard of your show cos I've either been too busy to care about pop culture crap or getting so drunk I forget where my dick is."

It was at this point that Bojack got angry. "Pop culture crap!? That's was my show, you asshat!"

* * *

More drinks. Drinks were good. Drinks helped numb the screaming in his head... Or did it make it louder? He didn't really care, he just wanted more of whatever the fuck they had in his glass. "Give me one good reason why you-" He hiccuped. "W-Why you never had time to see my show! Go on! One!" Conway's face was buried in the bar at this point, regretting ever walking in because, oh, did he hate the man sat next to him. Fist pounding at the wood, he groaned. "Because, you absolute pain in my piss slit, I was ON TOUR when I was younger!" Bojack paused for thought. On Tour? Like... A comedy thing or..? "I was a musician, alright? Got picked up by some fucking agency when I was singing back in my hometown as a teen, came out here, got one fucking record deal, went on tour and it all died on its asshole." A washed up musician and a washed up actor walk into a bar... That joke sounded like it ended with a double suicide. So this kid was a singer? How comes he'd never heard of him before? "It's stupid, really. I came here, met a girl-" Oh god, here comes the drunken life story. "Got married in my twenties, had a sweet life set up for me. Then, suddenly, this fucking dance music shit comes out and I'm ruined. I become a nobody, got dropped from my label and my bitch of an ex-wife runs off with the first rich cock she can bounce on." Down the hatch another glass of vodka goes. It was comforting to see he wasn't the only one who loved to burn of a good drink. "Shit. Guess we both got fucked over by this town..." The two share a snigger together, ordering more glasses of anything left behind the bar. "If you don't mind me asking, what kind of music did you even do?"

Conway sighed. "I was... I was a country singer." With a loud burp, Bojack bursted into laughter.

At least, it was funny until he was kicked off his stool...

* * *

"I-I tell ya, Hollywood is a place where all dreams go to DIE!"

"Hollywoo."

"What?"

"It's Hollywoo. There's no D."

"Yes there is."

"No. I-I assure you-" He burped. "There's no D. I tore it- Tore it down, I did!"

"There's a D."

"There's not!"

"There is!"

"Where!"

"Right here!"

And the mental image of Conway, pants around his ankles, cock and balls gripped in both hands, was burned into Bojack's mind for the rest of the night.

* * *

"I'd fuck Mr Peanutbutter."

Bojack raised a brow. That was unexpected... Weren't they talking about something else? "Dude, that's pretty gay." Conway snorted, waving his hand about like he wasn't entirely sure what he was doing. "Pffft, I don't give a fuck. He's a-a good looking man... Dog... Dog man? Yeah." Another glass. "And I-I mean, my- my ex, she was... She was a BITCH, ya know? But, I mean, dudes... Dudes are fun! Like, what-what-what if... What if, like, you could do stuff with dudes? No chance of getting knocked up, no bitchy ex-wife, just DUUUUUDES!" The human slipped off his stool, slamming onto the floor, giving out a gleeful and girlish giggle as he did. Bojack just shook his head. "That's what being gay is. Liking guys and stuff."

Conway seemed to be thinking. "But... But I like chicks, though. Can I do both and not be gay?"

He didn't have enough sober braincells to try argue about sexuality anymore. "Sure..."

* * *

"I mean... I may have, maybe..." Conway was flat out against the bar at this point, glass still firmly gripped in his hand, mumbling to the ever so slightly less drunk equine beside him. "Maybe I did suck- Suck some dicks to get gigs but... I mean, I never wanted to..."

Bojack just shrugged. "Can't say I blame you. I was just as bad back then..."

* * *

"Sing us a song, you're the piano man!" The two wailed loudly, stumbling down the streets as they did. They'd emptied a good few glasses of booze before they'd gotten kicked out. Something about 'not dying in my bar', they couldn't remember. Either way, this was nice. They were both drunk, both having a laugh, both madly depressive and wishing someone would just kill them already.

Ah, it was nice to be stumbling home with someone who was equally as pathetic.

* * *

"Ow..."

That was the first thing Bojack heard waking up. As much as he wanted to open his eyes, he really didn't want to give the hangover drumming in his brain the pleasure of seeing him in pain. Either way, he could feel someone laid on him. "Uh... Bo-Bojack? You there?" That was Conway at least. His whispers, caused by his own hangover, were a mercy to his ears. "Yeah, yeah I'm here... Fuck, I think we made it to mine, maybe?" A hand rubbed over his brow, trying to work out the tension as he tried to sit up... And failed. His body refused, rejecting his request after how it was treated the previous night. Though, as dead as he was all over, he could still feel some things. For starters, yes, he was in a bed. And naked. So, two things he was certain off at least. "Jesus fucking tits Mcgee, my head is killing me... Hey, do you know if we ended up hooking up with someone last night? Someone's next to me, I don't think they're awake yet."

"I don't know. But someone's on me, so maybe." He groaned. "Fuck, you think had an orgy or something? Cos I'm gonna be pissed if I need to spend all day cleaning up other people's spunk." The two gave a huff and immediately whined in pain, their heads thumping almost in unison at this point. Conway patted out beside him, feeling up his mystery lover. "Damn, I ended up with someone big... I mean, nothing wrong with a big girl, but she's feels pretty huge." His hands went higher, groping for breasts... "Nice set on here though." ...And Bojack suddenly started praying the hands touching him up wasn't who he thought it was.

He felt his gut being touched and his blood ran cold as the human spoke. "Kinda hefty too, but that can be cute." No... No no no, this cannot be happening. But, no matter how badly he prayed it wasn't, he couldn't deny the touch of fingers around his dick.

"Huh... I think she's wearing a strap on. Which makes sense, my ass feels like I got... Got..."

Their eyes snapped open, both staring dead on at the other male, flinging themselves from the bed with hysterics and screaming in horror.

Then screaming because, sweet jesus, why was the sun THAT bright!?

Bojack was slumped on the couch, tossing back some pain pills and praying his brain would stop the endless throbbing. That and he really wished he could forgot what he'd just discovered. He'd slept with Conway. He'd slept with Conway full on. Like, in the butt. Conway hadn't taken it easily either but had taken his time to try retrace their steps through the night. He walked into the living room, finishing rolling his shirt back on, before giving a quick huff of breath. "Okay, so... I remember a few things." Bojack raised a brow, staring through the human before him. Oh, how he wished he wasn't there right now. "So... We came back drunk, obviously... Then..."

 _ **"You're a sexy-" He hiccuped. "Sexy sexy horse, you know that? Like, Peanutbutter sexy!" Bojack laughed, slamming the front door behind him and slumping against it. "Shut up! I'm not like him, he's all muscle and fur and-and-" Lips were against his and, oh, that felt odd. This was a guy kissing him. A stranger at that. Not that he didn't like it... Conway wrapped his arms around the equine's neck, moaning as he felt a thick tongue push against his own, strong hands gripping ahold of his hips. "Need... W-Wanna suck your..." He whined and whimpered, their bodies grinding together, the natural third leg of Bojack now clearly visible in his pants. "I wanna play with your dick." Conway, in a disturbing display of professionalism, slipped down the older male's body and tugged down the restricting articles of clothing, rewarded with a hefty length of muscle springing up to greet him.**_

 _ **"Bojack... Oh god, Bojack, it looks fucking amazing..." His tongue dragging along the meat before him, hands shifting between rubbing it and fondling the heavy sack behind it. The actor could do nothing but watch, enjoying the perverse situation he found himself in.**_

"That explains the cum on the carpet... Jesus, you really didn't waste time, did you?" He grimaced as he heard himself. That had come out a little more insulting than he meant it to be. Thankfully, Conway seemed more interested in retelling the story of last night. "I wasn't even done. We didn't stop there..."

 _ **Clothes were... Somewhere, he didn't care. This was good. This was fun. Conway was fun. They'd rushed to the bedroom and stumbled onto the bed, Bojack on his back with the human ontop. "Be more gentle this time, okay?" The equine laughed, slapping his slut on the rear with a grin. "Weren't you the one who thought cum was a good lube anyway? You started it, be grateful you got something out of it!" The flail of his length skipped across the already well humped hole of his current lover, forcing shivers from the furless body ontop of him. "T-That's not fair, you cheated! Besides, it hur-AH!" Inches, he didn't care how much, was inside him. Thick, long, spreading him, punching that warm spot inside of him over and over. His brain short circuited, his eyesight faded white, his voice became screams and his body bucked back against the man slamming into him. He couldn't help it, couldn't resist, begging and pray the horse he was riding to give him everything.**_

 _ **The rest of the night, his wish was granted.**_

"So... I mean, you wanted me to... To do you?" Conway nodded, suddenly unable to find the words to voice his shame. This was... Unique. He'd never expected to get so drunk that he'd take a horse for a spin. Though he did make a quick mental note to check in with the doctor's later. He didn't want "Died from intestinal damage due to a huge penis" to be his epitaph... Bojack, on the other hand, was still trying to process it all. Yes, they'd had sex. Yes, they were drunk. But should he feel ashamed that hearing about it had turned him on a little? "That explains the bedroom and why it hurts to even touch my dick... You're welcome by the way." He felt a grin tug at his lips and, honestly, it didn't feel wrong to be a little smug about Conway enjoying being on the receiving end of matters. It was actually a little flattering to have someone worship him like that, if only in the bedroom (and while drunk). "Oh... Fuck..." Conway seemed snapped out of his stupor, crouching down and grabbing a sticky tabloid magazine from the carpet. He looked to Bojack, who had just realized the exact same thing.

"So... Now we know the full story..."

 _ **"Jesus! Fuck, that was... Shit, I could barely swallow any of that!" Bojack huffed, pleased with his nature given virility. Having someone work him like that, even if it was a guy, felt good. He needed someone, anyone really, to help him get some release. "Well, you drank plenty at the bar... Surprised you can't handle my shots!" He sniggered, watching as the human wiped the mess on their chin and cheeks. Damn, he'd gotten it on the carpet too... That was gonna be a bitch to clean. Conway didn't seem to be helping matters, yanking off his pants and quickly getting on all fours. "What-What do you think you're doing?" He didn't respond, scrapping any sticky white off of him and reaching back with gooey fingers to his rear. His eyes locked with Bojack's, smirking, wanting him to watch. A finger pushed in, rough but helped by the horse's load, earning a slight gasp. A second joined it, then a third, slowly pumping away at his backdoor. However, as pornographic as he'd tried to make it, he seem clearly uncomfortable by the third finger. His little porn-star act was cut short by his inexperience... And by Bojack taking the hint.**_

 _ **Kneeling behind him, his third leg slapped between the firm cheeks of the smaller male, he huffed. He was about to do this, wasn't he? About to mount a guy he'd only just met. "Come on, Bo. Stuff it in me, I wanna go for a pony ride!" He cringed... God, that was a bad line. But how could he say no when he was already this far? It would be fine, right? Gay guys do this ALL the time! All he had to do was get the head in, push in and-**_

 _ **Hear Conway scream bloody murder? That didn't seem right. Nor did the tears rolling down his face. "I-It hurts! F-Fuck, oh shit, fuck, fuck, fuck, this is NOT like it is in the porn, JESUS FUCK!" He was clutching the carpet in handfuls now, sniffling and trembling as his body tried to fight the pain of being violated so suddenly by something so huge. Maybe it was the booze talking, maybe he felt sorry for the kid, but Bojack couldn't stop his hands rubbing at the bare skin before him. Down his back, over his sides, down to his crotch. "Hey, it's okay... I won't move, I'm sure this happens all the time." He wasn't sure, but what could he say. But when his hands found a very much eager human muscle, his idea of not moving suddenly became trashed. His eyes hungered over the tight body milking him right now, catching a glimpse, by chance, of a tabloid he'd lobbed aside. It had been full of pages about Mr Peanutbutter, which had been sickening... But now, it seemed useful. He snatched it up, remembering a Summer spread involving the annoying dog in swimwear (It wasn't gay to look at someone he hated in swimwear. That was the motto he repeated to himself anyway...). "Conway~" He said in a singsong tone. "We're gonna have a threesome with that dog you like." The musician sniffled, glancing back at the man currently buried inside of him, confused. He watched as the magazine was flopped in front of him, staring eagerly at the near naked canine on the glossy pages, and only made a noise when a pair of fingers pushed into his mouth.**_

 _ **"See? I'll play the role of both of us and you get to enjoy being sandwiched between two TV stars! Most girls would kill for this. So, now..." He began thrusting into the human, forcing Conway to moan as he suckled on the digits in his mouth, reaching back to grip the chubby waist of the man rutting him. Things began to speed up, his eyes never leaving the sight of the other male laid on in such tight fitting swimwear...**_

 _ **Showing off his body, his package, the feel, the thought of him in his mouth with Bojack-**_

"You made me cum over the bloody magazine, you fucking pervert!"

"ME the pervert!? You started all of this!"

They couldn't help the argument that broke out. It was in their nature.

* * *

The fighting had stopped eventually. Together, one fully dressed, the other in just his robe, they sipped on coffee. Both still had hangovers and their entire situation wasn't helping either. Things had been silent. Too silent, which Bojack never thought would be a bad thing. Conway, on the other hand, couldn't help his eyes wandering to the other's crotch. It was obvious they'd both had fun last night, so would it really be all that bad to do it again sometime? Assuming Bojack wanted to, of course. He set his coffee down on the floor, spinning in his seat, and cleared his throat. "I er... I don't really regret much last night. Beyond, you know, the lack of lube." His face was burning up. This was real, he was confessing that he liked having another dude inside of him... Not what he expected when he went to the bar yesterday. Bojack just kept staring ahead, sipping his coffee, seemingly unfazed. "I know it's stupid, but we both had fun. And, I mean, it's feel like forever since I... I mean, you um..."

The equine sighed, putting his cup on the arm of the sofa. "Yeah, I know, you don't have to say it. Not many people want to get into bed with me, let alone act like you did." He smirked and, damn it, he didn't wanna look happy about that. This was weird. It was so, so weird... Good, but weird. Weirder still when he felt a hand creep onto his thigh and didn't jump to it. So now seemed like a good time to self-hate, right? "You sure you want this? I mean, I was born broken. No matter how much you think you're fine with this, I will always be fucked up. Plus, I'm like twenty years older than you." Conway simply smiled, shifting to straddle the equine and blushing like a virgin all the while.

"Yeah, well, I'm not perfect myself. But I believe no one's born broken. Everyone around us makes us break and gets off to it. I'm not saying this needs to get serious, just that I'm open to trying it out some more... So, if you don't mind-" Leaning in, he captures Bojack's lips with his own, earning a throating groan of delight from the older male. Okay, so maybe this wasn't the worst thing in the world. But knocking over his coffee and making a big brown skid mark of a stain on the floor? That's pretty bad.

"Oh, fuck me in the ass."

"Well, if you're offering..."

He stood corrected. This was gonna be hell.

 **Again, I know it probably sucks, but I'm just happy to finally post something again. Plus, Conway is supposed to be more a "we'll see what happens" kinda romance here: They both use eachother cos they like being with eachother, but they can't say it's a relationship. It's just fun and they both feel good being together, love isn't on their minds yet. Just wanting to clear that up incase it was confusing.**


End file.
